


The Bane of Duty

by Balerion_the_Dread22



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aegon is a decent person, Angsty but a happy end, Estranged Brothers, F/M, Fuck Duty!, Grandmama Rhaella, Jon is a Targaryen bastard, Married Jon Snow x Daenerys, One-Shot, The crown rests heavily on Aegon's head
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 16:47:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16664500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Balerion_the_Dread22/pseuds/Balerion_the_Dread22
Summary: Aegon and Jon, a King and a Bastard, who have more in common than they thought possible.





	The Bane of Duty

She was always there, the small child with the wispy silver hair. Not that Jon had seen much of the world. He was only nine and all he knew was Dragonstone, the seat of his ancestors. His father Prince Rhaegar should have been King, but he died a week after his victory against Robert Baratheon. Ser Barristan had told them the story more than once, but Jon never failed to feel sad when he heard about his father’s death.

All he had was his grandmother Queen Rhaella, his sometimes dour Uncle Prince Viserys and his Aunt Princess Daenerys. He also had two siblings, Princess Rhaenys and a brother named Aegon or better said King Aegon the Sixth of his Name. Rhaenys had lived with them until he was six, but was later sent to be fostered in the Reach. Jon had a hard time recalling her face, but she used to read him stories from her large collection of books. Aegon he had only met a handful of times, but never alone.

“What are you staring at, Jon?” Daenerys asked him from her place on the carpet. Rhaenys’ old fat cat sat next to her and rubbed his massive belly against his Aunt’s hand. His name was Balerion and Jon promised his sister upon her departure that he would take care of the cat. Sadly, the grumpy tomcat seemed to prefer Daenerys over his company, which was no surprise. He observed more than once how she slipped him meat from the kitchens.

“A storm is coming,” he replied and pressed his face against the painted window. Three dragon heads stared back at him and painted the world before him in a blurred glimmer of red. In between were colorless pieces that allowed him to see the beach below. Dragonstone was built on a volcano and the cliffs lining the beach were as dark as the night. Another common phenomenon plaguing the island were the constant storms that never failed to keep Jon awake.

“Really?” Daenerys asked happily and rose to her feet to join him at the windowsill. ”We could sleep in the Room of the Painted Table. There we can hear all of it.”

Jon frowned. Only someone like Daenerys found such things exciting. She certainly never failed to remind him that she was born during a terrible storm.

“Grandmother wouldn’t like that,” he reminded her. “And I don’t want to bother her. She has been feeling sick again.”

Her smile died and Jon froze. He didn’t mean to make her sad.

“I am sorry…,” he apologized quickly, but she had already slipped out of the room, Balerion her ever vigilant shadow, following after her.

His grandmother looked paler than usual that night, her face like wrought from glass. She was always fragile, but over the last two years her condition had only worsened. Viserys had always been her greatest comfort, but only a year ago he was sent to Dorne wed Princess Arianne Martell.

 _It is a great honor_ , his grandmother had told him on the day of his departure, but Jon saw the unshed tears in her eyes. It was the first time he felt the stirrings of discontent taking hold of his heart and he had promptly protested, claiming that the Dornish took Viserys away from them.

 _You don’t know what you are talking about, sweetling_ , his grandmother had silenced him with a firm word. He had no mother or father to depend on, only his grandmother. He swore to himself on that day that he would never do anything to hurt her.

“You look sad, sweetling,” she said when she noticed him standing there at the entrance of her chamber. ”Come here.”

Jon nodded his head and sat down next to her. As always, she curled her arm around his shoulder and placed a soft kiss on his brow. When he was very young he had the habit of calling her mother, but Viserys never failed to remind him of the truth. _She is my mother, not yours_ , he had told Jon more than once. And yet he couldn’t help but to love his dour Uncle. He was like Jon, judged by the deeds of his father.

“Now tell me,” she prodded gently and brushed his hair out of his face. ”What happened?”

“Daenerys is angry with me,” he replied and buried his head on her shoulder. “She wanted to sleep in the Chamber of the Painted Table to listen to the storms, but I reminded her that you wouldn’t approve of it. I said we shouldn’t bother, because of your bad health. For some reason she grew very angry with me and hasn’t spoken to me all day long.”

His grandmother sighed deeply and held him close.

“Oh, I doubt she is angry with you. I think it has more to do with something Viserys had told her before leaving for Dorne.”

“What did he say?” he asked in a whispery voice.

“He blamed my daughter for my bad health. I doubt he meant it, but you know my son’s temper. He tends to lash out when something displeases him.”

“That’s utter horseshit!” Jon grumbled louder than intended and gave his grandmother an apologetic look.

“It is,” his grandmother agreed and chuckled. ”Now go to Daenerys and tell her that you have my approval.”

Jon hopped too his feet, a jolt of excitement rushing through his body as he stormed out of the room, up the stairs, towards Daenerys’ chamber.

“Dany!” he called out and knocked at the door. “Can we speak?”

Several heartbeats later his Aunt finally opened the door, Balerion in her arms.

“What do you want?” she asked in a sour tone.

“I spoke to grandmother,” he replied and graced her with one of his rare smiles. ”She gave her permission if you still want to go through with your plans…”

“Of course I want!” she exclaimed, put Balerion on the bed and started to gather her belongings. Then she grabbed his arm and pulled him along.

Jon hated storms, but maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as he thought.

It was worth it if it brought a smile to his Aunt’s lips.

…

Jon was sparring with one of the squires, the sound of the practice swords echoing over the courtyard, when the riders appeared, baring the banner of the three-headed dragon. The leader of the group was a known. It was Lord Jon Connington, the Hand of the King.

Jon had only met him only a handful of times, but he still sported the same bright red hair, though it was now streaked with strands of grey. He looked weary from the long travel and he came not alone. With him was his brother, King Aegon, seated on a fine black horse, a golden crown resting atop his silver curls.

He waved at the courtiers as he passed, but no smile showed on his lips. Their father lost his life to keep the crown, but his brother didn’t seem very happy to wear it.

Jon’s gaze followed them all the way until they reached the stables. His heart pounded violently as his brother passed him by a mere inch, but Jon lacked the courage to speak to him. He may be the son of a Prince and a Lady of noble stock, but he was still a bastard.

Instead he wheeled around and darted off towards the stables, his favourite hiding place. There, his most loyal companion awaited him, a black stead called Vhagar. His grandmother had gifted him the horse on his sixth nameday and ever since he had taken utmost care of this beautiful animal. Not even the stable boys were allowed to tend to her when Jon was present.

“Hello,” he greeted the horse with a smile and brushed his hand over its dark mane. ”Did you miss me?”

The horse didn’t answer, but brushed his nose against his hand. Jon took it as way of confirmation and fed it with the carrots he had acquired from the kitchens.

Thus he wasted several hours, feeding and brushing his horse until its skin shone like silk.

It was late evening when he returned to the castle, where his former nursemaid awaited him with a stern look.

“Where have you been hiding again?” she asked and took in his scrappy appearance. ”The King has arrived to visit the Queen Mother and you look like a peasant. Come along now, you are in dire need of a bath.”

Jon didn’t hesitate to follow her command. There was nothing worse than to anger _Rachel the Dragon_ , as Viserys had dubbed her.

Within the matter of hours Jon was scrubbed and dressed, before he was sent to meet his brother the King.

Jon felt as if his heart might jump out of his chest as he entered the solar. There he found Lord Connington, his grandmother, his Aunt and of course his brother King Aegon.

“Come here, sweetling,” his grandmother prodded and he finally had the courage to meet his brother’s gaze.

As practiced, he dipped his head and greeted him in the most polite manner possible.

“I am pleased to meet you, your Grace.”

Something akin to curiosity showed in his brother’s purple eyes. After a moment of silence had passed between them he finally answered.

“The pleasure is mine, brother,” Aegon replied and graced Jon with a polite smile. ”Please sit down and let us sup. We have been waiting for you.”

And sup they did. It was Daenerys’ last nameday that they were last blessed with such fine food. There was roasted chicken, peacock and several different kinds of fish served that night, all of it covered in a sweet sauce. The cake was even more impressive, but Jon was barely able to clear his plate. He had a bad feeling about this meeting. The Hand and the King wouldn’t come here for a simple visit. Last time they came to take Viserys away and before that Rhaenys. Jon wondered who will be their next victim? He always knew that it was only a matter of time, but it didn’t make it any easier.

Even Dany seemed to sense this and was as silent as a mouse.

“I thank you for this excellent meal,” Lord Connington told his grandmother and filled his cup to the brim. Then he shifted his attention to Daenerys and Jon. ”But I fear that is not the only reason we came here. The Ruling Council tasked me to come here to speak with you about Princess Daenerys and…Jon.”

His grandmother paled, but nodded her head in understanding.

“What about, my Lord?”

“The Ruling Council has finally decided on a match for Princess Daenerys. You should rejoice, your Grace. Your daughter shall be Queen.”

His grandmother smiled, but it was a thin one and lacked its usual warmth.

“I see,” she said and looked over to Daenerys, who had grown utterly silent. His brother, who had hardly spoken a word since his arrival, eyed her from his seat at the opposing side of the table. It was hard to say whether he was happy or sad about this arrangement. ”Do you hear, daughter? You shall be Queen?”

Daenerys nodded her head, but didn’t smile.

“Does that mean I have to leave Dragonstone?” she asked instead, her eyes fixed on Lord Connington. ”Does that mean I have to leave my mother?”

Lord Connington sighed deeply and nodded his head in confirmation.

“I fear so, my Princess.”

Daenerys gritted her teeth and lowered her head. Tears shone in her eyes, but she remained polite as she addressed the Hand and the King.

“Why now? Please allow me to stay a while longer…until mother is better.”

 _She will never get better_ , Lord Connington’s grim expression told Jon.

“I fear not, Princess,” he replied through clenched teeth. Aegon didn’t even look at Daenerys, his gaze fixed at the tapestries on the other side of the room. ”There is no way around it. Please, don’t make it more difficult than necessary.”

“But you are the Hand of the King!” Daenerys protested loudly, obviously no longer able to contain her emotions. ”And Aegon is the King!”

Lord Connington opened his mouth to speak, but his grandmother cut in.

“Daenerys,” she said in a firm tone. ”Don’t make it harder for Lord Connington than it already is. And he is right, it is time for you to leave. You need to be around other girls of your standing.”

Daenerys clenched her teeth and dipped her head. She was always rather forward, but she would never speak out against her mother.

“I understand,” she said at last after a moment of silence had passed between them. ”Can I leave now? I lost my appetite…”

“Daenerys…the King is present,” his grandmother chided in a disapproving tone, but it was then that his brother the King finally chose to speak. ”I don’t mind, grandmother. My Aunt looks tired. She should rest.”

Daenerys dropped a quick curtsy and left the room. Jon wanted to follow after her, but Lord Connington’s piercing gaze stopped him.

“Jon,” he said in a heavy voice. ”You will have to leave as well.”

Jon expected it, but it was still a hard blow. He balled his fists below the table, to numb the feelings stirring inside his heart.

“Where will I go?” he asked weakly. “To the North?”

Jon had never met his family from the North, but there was no other place he could imagine going. He doubted Queen Elia would want him in King’s Landing.

“From this day on you shall be my squire,” Lord Connington declared. ”And one day a knight. I swear it.”

…

King’s Landing proved much different than Dragonstone. It was a maze of walls, towers and streets. The mass of people residing there was even more overwhelming. Every night he missed his home, his grandmother, Dany and even Rachel, though he knew very well that he wouldn’t go back there anytime soon.

His only comfort was his sword practice. Jon always loved swordplay, even more so than the stories Rhaenys used to tell him. Most of them were about knights and sometimes about dragons, but like his sister he preferred the tales about the knights. The knight he admired the most was Prince Aemon the Dragonknight and sometimes he wished his mother would have named him Aemon. He may not look much like a Targaryen, but even his grandmother assured him more than once that he had his father’s eyes. Sometimes, when Jon was very sad, he sneaked into his grandmother’s bed room to look at his eyes in the looking glass. _His father’s eyes._

As expected, the other squires eyed him with distrust, though they never dared to insult him again, after he had given one of them a bloody nose. It earned him a punishment, but he didn’t care. To see this proud boy weeping like a little girl gave him great satisfaction.

Thus weeks turned to moons and soon two years had passed. It was a lonely life, though he was surrounded by thousands of people. The only comfort was that Lord Connington proved a kinder man than anticipated. Sure, he was a grumpy man and hardly smiled, but he was fair and never burdened Jon with more work than necessary. He even praised him when he proved better than the other boys and chided him when he didn’t perform as well as he could be.

The best of times were when Lord Connington spoke about his father Prince Rhaegar. He spoke of him with such warmth, that Jon couldn’t help but to care about the grumpy old man, though he often wondered if he didn’t feel alone. He had neither a wife nor a child, though he had a nephew. As Hand of the King he could have had any woman he desired, but he chose to remain alone.

 _The person I loved the most died_ , he had told Jon not long ago, though he never told Jon the woman’s name. Whoever she was it must have been a fine lady if Lord Connington was still grieving for her.

And yet Jon still longed for companions his age, someone to play and to share his interests with.

Three years after his arrival in King’s Landing his wish was finally granted. It was a sunny evening sword practice that he found a very strange boy tending to the horses. He was the biggest boy Jon had ever seen and incredibly fearful. He jumped in the air after Jon had tried to address him in a calm and polite tone.

Jon first thought he was one of the stable boys, but then he noticed his fine clothing. This was no peasant, but someone born and bred in a castle.

“Oh,” the boy said and rubbed his shaggy brown hair. His face was beat red and he looked embarrassed by his fearful reaction. ”I am sorry…you surprised me.”

“It is alright,” Jon assured him and offered his hand to the boy. ”I am Jon Waters. I am Lord Connington’s squire. It is my pleasure to meet you.”

The boy smiled and shook his hand.

“I am Samwell Tarly, the son of Randyll Tarly. I am no squire yet, but my Lord Father wants me to become a knight.”

Jon was stunned. He had met Lord Tarly only once, but everyone knew him as a renowned warrior. It was hard to believe that this chubby boy was his son.

“You don’t sound very enthusiastic?”

“Well, no. I am not good at these things. I can’t hold a sword and I can’t even sit a horse. I am completely useless. I only agreed, because my father wanted it. And what brings you here?”

This stunned Jon even more, but he tried to be friendly.

“My name is Jon Waters,” he repeated and forced the words over his lips. ”My father was Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and my mother was Lyanna Stark. I am also here to become a knight.”

Realization showed on Samwell Tarly’s face, but he remained friendly as ever.

“And you like it here?” he asked awkwardly. ”Do you _really_ want to be a knight?”

“I suppose,” Jon replied. No one had ever asked him what he wanted. Jon knew his future, they had yet to inform him personally. Yet it was hard to overhear what the courtiers whispered. The Ruling Council wanted him to join the Kingsguard, to prevent him from fathering children that could compete with his brother’s claim. Why they feared him so much was a mystery to him. He may be Prince Rhaegar’s son, but he was still a bastard and held in interest in the crown. “I like swordplay…that is all. What about you? What do you want to be?”

Samwell Tarly fell silent and pondered his question, before giving his answer.

“I always wanted to be…,” he stuttered and leaned closer to whisper into Jon’s ear. “A Maester…but my Lord Father hates Maesters.”

Jon couldn’t help but chuckle. There was something incredibly endearing about this boy.

“Well, I can’t help you to become a Maester, but I could help you become a passable knight if you are prepared to work hard.”

The boy gave him a disbelieving look.

“You really think that is possible?”

Jon wasn’t sure, but it was worth trying.

“I think so.”

…

 Like every morning, Jon and Sam tended to the horses. Sam may hate swordplay and riding, but he loved caring for the animals. Often enough questioned the stable boys about the proper rearing of horses and even made notes when he had heard something particularly interesting. After six moons he had become quite accomplished and only the stable master could claim to know more about horses.

 Naturally, the old man disliked Sam’s presence and his constant questioning. Jon understood why. The man was nearly sixty and probably disliked that this green lording wants to school him on his work.

“There is nothing better than this kind of work!” Sam gushed and continued to brush his horse’s flank. It was a mild-mannered palfrey horse that had earned Sam’s heart. Jon was glad, because it had been quite difficult to find an appropriate horse for his fearful friend. At least now he was able climb in the saddle without pissing his pants. Even the other boys finally stopped laughing about him. ”Don’t you agree, Jon?”

“I prefer to take care of my own horse,” Jon replied and put the brush away. ”Lord Connington’s horses are as stubborn as their master.”

“Then they suit you well, Jon,” a different, softer voice added.

He jumped at the stranger’s voice, whirled around and found Daenerys standing behind them. Her voice was still sweet and soft, but it was different, more womanly.

She also looked different from the wild girl he had known. She wore a fine velvet cloak, a lilac gown and soft slippers. Even her hair looked different. Home at Dragonstone it would flow freely around her shoulders, wild and untamed as its owner, but now it was bound in complicated braids and fastened at the top of her head. The old Daenerys would have complained about this, but it had been nearly four years that he had last seen her.

“Dan…,” he stuttered, but stopped himself at the last moment. “I mean…Princess Daenerys. It is a pleasure to see you again.”

Disappointment showed on her face, but she hid it well behind her smile. Another thing she must have learned in her time in Highgarden.

“Dany,” she corrected him and stepped closer. Then she craned her neck to look at Sam. He had fallen utterly silent, his face deeply flushed as he regarded Daenerys. It was not the first time. Sam had problems talking to girls. ”Who is your friend?”

“Samwell Tarly,” his friend stuttered and lowered his head. ”It is a pleasure to meet you, Princess Daenerys.”

Daenerys smiled warmly.

“I think I had the honor of meeting your sister Talla. She is a sweet girl.”

Sam grinned like a fool.

“Talla…aye…I think I have a sister going by that name…,” he stuttered.

“You think so?” Daenerys asked in an amused voice. ”Are you not sure?”

“I mean…,” Sam stuttered. ”I think it is better if I go…It was a pleasure to meet you, Princess Daenerys.”

“The pleasure was mine,” Daenerys added softly and shifted her attention back to Jon. She beamed when she took in Lord Connington’s black destrier.

“What a beautiful horse,” she remarked and stepped closer. ”Is it a war horse?”

“Aye,” Jon confirmed and tried not to look at her. She had grown even prettier. She looked almost as beautiful as his grandmother. ”But I doubt Lord Connington wants them to look pretty. They should be fearsome…They are reared to kill not to look beautiful.”

“I have seen knights ride such horses when I was in Dorne, but I wasn’t allowed to join in. In the Reach they didn’t even allow me to ride beyond the castle gates. They told me to ride ponies instead. They think it could affect my ability to bear healthy heirs.”

Jon stared at her, baffled by her honest words. He had expected her to become one of these ladies hiding behind their fans and indulging in their gossip.

“Who told you that?”

“Maester Pycelle,” Daenerys replied with an amused smile.

Jon chuckled. ”The old fool should retire to the Citadel. I heard Lord Connington complain about him more than once.”

“Indeed,” she replied and moved closer, her eyes bright like two gemstones. ”How about taking this fine horse for a ride? What do you say?”

“Lord Connington…,” he began, but Daenerys didn’t hesitate to cut him off.

“No protests!” she replied and grinned. ”I will take full responsibility.”

“No need,” Jon countered. ”I will ask for Lord Connington’s permission. I am sure he will grant it as long as he doesn’t find out that you are going to accompany me. Do you think you could get away tomorrow evening?”

She pursed her lips and pondered the question, before giving her answer.

“Aye, I think so. I could feign an illness.”

“But you should bring trousers,” Jon added and earned himself a frown. ”Such a fine gown like yours would only get ruined.”

“I have a plainer dress, but trousers are hard to get by with the Septa looking over my shoulder every passing minute.”

Jon was not surprised. Daenerys always hated the Septas her mother employed for her. It seemed certain things never change.

“Well then, I will bring you a pair of trousers.”

She laughed and leaned closer to place a kiss on his cheek.

“I knew I would be able to count on you, Jon,” she added, before taking her leave. Jon stared after her for a long time, his heart threatening to jump out of his chest. He was taken back by his reaction. When did he develop such cravings?

Even late at night when Sam was reading through his thick books, he couldn’t forget her smile.

Again, Jon turned around, trying to forget the desire pooling in his stomach. Why did she have to come back now? Everything was going so well…

 _I will tell her to stay away from me,_ Jon thought and turned back to the other side. _Tomorrow, I will tell her._

He didn’t know why, but this thought gave him a measure of peace.

“Your Aunt is pretty,” Sam remarked then. Jon wanted to curse him, though his friend only meant to compliment Danenerys.

“She is,” Jon confirmed hesitatingly. ”And she is betrothed to my brother the King.”

“I know,” Sam replied in a quiet voice and gave him an apologetic look. ”I heard about it.”

…

It was incredibly dark as Daenerys followed after Aegon down the steps leading to the cellar of the Red Keep. Down there, her family kept a good dozen of the dragon skulls that didn’t fit in the Throne Room.

“And you are sure nobody will mind, nephew?” she asked, though she was speaking to the King.

“No,” he replied, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. Her King was a good-looking boy, graced with silver hair and purple eyes. They had been betrothed for four years, but this was the first time they were alone. Yet Daenerys still didn’t want to make of her nephew. At times he could be cheerful and wild, but at times like this he was silent like a mouse. He was similar to Jon, but also different. Jon always had a melancholic character, but there was much wit hidden behind that gloomy face.

Aegon was different. He wore his gloomy face like a mask. _This wasn’t the real Aegon_ , she was sure.

“I am glad you like it,” he replied at last as they had reached the bottom of the steps, the torch in his hand their only source of light. Left and right she found the skulls of dragons, their empty sockets staring back at her through the darkness.

 _Jon would love this_ , she thought and her heart fluttered with excitement. The dragons were ridden by her forbearers. Aegon the Conqueror, his sister-wives came to mind.

“This one is Vhagar,” Aegon explained and stopped at a particularly imposing skull.”It belonged to Queen Visenya. I heard my brother has a horse that goes by that name.”

She was stunned by his remark, but remained polite.

“It was my suggestion,” she replied hesitatingly and stepped closer. His even-shaped face was cast in shadows, his dark purple eyes sad and distant.

“I never asked you,” he said and pursed his lips. ”Are you and my brother very close?”

  _A dangerous question_ , she realized and slipped her mask into place.

 “We grew up together. We were children…that is all.”

“I see,” he replied and regarded her more closely, his eyes taking in her face. ”You are very beautiful…” he trailed off and averted his gaze a heartbeat later.

Daenerys didn’t know what to make of his words. She should feel delighted by his words, but she sensed only awkwardness, as if this whole meeting caused him great discomfort.

“That is very kind of you to say,” she replied and leaned closer, trying to help him. Then lifted herself on the balls of her feet and kissed him, their lips barely touching.

He froze and touched her hand, as if trying to shake her off. Then he seemed to recognize his actions and stopped. He closed his eyes, his mouth moving against hers. It lasted barely a minute, before he let go of her.

Daenerys’ couldn’t shrug off the feeling that she did something wrong.

“Did you like it?” she inquired in an unsure tone. ”I have never done it before…I am not very good.”

He gave her a hesitant smile. He looked very conflicted as if he didn’t really want to be here.

“Dear Aunt,” he began, but corrected himself a moment later. ”There is something I have to tell you. Something I should have told you a long time ago.”

Going by the tone of his voice, it had to be bad.

“What is it?” she prodded gently.

“I have a son,” he said at last and forced the world over his lips. ”With my cousin…Elia Sand. His name is Aelion. I thought you should know that.”

“What do you say?” she managed to say at last and backed away. It wasn’t even the idea of a bastard that shocked her. Jon was a bastard and he was more than dear to her, but it was such a surprise. She could scarcely believe it.”With your cousin? Do you love her?”

“No,” he replied, but didn’t look her into the eye, his gaze fixed on the ground. _He is lying to himself_ , she realized. _Just as I have been lying to myself_. ”I don’t love her. It was a terrible mistake. Everyone says so.”

“Everyone,” Daenerys muttered, anger stirring in her gut. “And the child? Is he also a terrible mistake for you?”

“I suppose…,” Aegon replied mechanically and balled his fists. ”He is a bastard…cursed by the Seven.”

It happened before she was even able to register her actions. Her anger had spoken when she slapped her nephew, her King.

Aegon stared back at her with wide eyes, his cheek red where she had slapped to him.

“Why did you hit me…it means nothing…I haven’t even acknowledged him…,” he tried to explain, but Daenerys wanted to hear none of it.

“That makes it even worse. And I thought the Dornish were different…even your Uncle acknowledged all his bastards.”

“I am the King,” he defended himself. ”And I have a duty…” he continued, but Daenerys cut him off.

“Fuck duty!” she snapped back. ”Where did duty ever lead our family? Your father ran off with Jon’s mother because he couldn’t love your mother…My mother endured a life of hardships because her father wanted to fulfill some silly prophecy…Don’t lie to yourself and take care of son. It doesn’t matter what name a child has as long as it is loved. And that is something you can do if you can’t make him your heir.”

 “My Lords…,” he protested, but Daenerys already knew what he wanted to say.

“Fuck them as well!” she snapped. “They are old men who are using you as their puppets. There is so much that needs to be done…Stop listening to what everyone says. You are the King and nearly of age to rule on your own. Act like one.”

Then she turned around and left him standing there like a fool. _No, I am a fool too._

…

Daenerys waited for him in the goodswood, seated beneath the great oak.

As promised she had changed into a plainer dress, made of wool and dyed in a dull green color.

“There you are,” she remarked solemnly and rose to her feet.

 _She looks unhappy_ , he thought and handed her the folded piece of clothing. It was a pair of trousers, taken from one of the younger squires. It should fit her slender form just fine.

A hint of a smile showed on her lips as she unfolded the piece of clothing.

“Thank you…thank you,” she replied and started to pull off her boots. Then she slipped into the trousers.

“It is a bit loose,” she remarked and brushed her braided hair over her shoulder. ”But I feel so free.”

Then, with another quick movement she pulled the dress over her shoulders and revealed a thin grey tunic.

It helped to accentuate her slender neck and the swell of her breasts. She had small breasts, but full and small. Jon’s cheeks burned when he found himself thinking like that.

“Are you sick?” she asked him and gave him a worried look. ”You look so pale.”

He swallowed hard and brushed those feelings aside.

“I am well,” he assured her and pointed at the trail leading back to the Red Keep. ”The horses await us.”

She grinned from one ear to the other and led the way. Jon followed suit, fearful that somebody might see them. He had Lord Connington’s permission, but that that didn’t mean he would approve of his behavior.

Daenerys raced ahead as if the wind was on her heels. Behind them lay the Kingswoods, a thick forest that stretched for miles without end. The high lords liked to hunt here, but his brother Aegon showed no interest in such pursuits. He loved riding, so much even Jon knew, because his stables harbored the wildest of horses.

Daenerys laughed as she galloped down a hill and over the small brook snaking its way through the green landscape. _This place fits her more than the Red Keep_ , he thought, the old feelings of jealousy stirring inside his heart. He had never envied his brother for the crown, never wished for it, but now he couldn’t help but to nurse a hint of animosity towards his own blood. He would have her, while was meant to stand guard until his hair was white like snow. He had always dreamed of being Aemon the Dragonknight, but now his heart wanted more.

“Jon!” Daenerys called out to him. She had turned around and watered her horse in the brook. ”What are you doing? Did you fall asleep?”

“I am well,” he assured her and led Lord Connington’s mighty destrier over the brook. There he unhorsed and allowed him to graze on the meadow stretching below the hill. ”I was admiring the landscape.”

“It is a beautiful day, almost pleasant,” she agreed and pulled off her cloak, to spread it over the grass.

The she sat down and pulled her legs to her chest. Sitting like this she looked like the child he knew, not a girl of ten and three.

“Aegon showed me the dragon skulls in the Red Keep,” she said then, her eyes fixed on the bright flowers littering the meadow.

Jon had no idea why she told him that, but played along.

“Did you like it?”

“Aye,” she confirmed and shrugged her shoulders. ”You know how much I like dragons. That’s why I loved Rhaenys’ cat so much. I always pretended he was the real Balerion.”

Jon nodded his head and plucked a handful of flowers from the grass. He needed something to occupy his hands with.

“I never asked you,” he remarked. ”How did the cat die? Did you take him with you to the Reach?”

She gave him a sad nod.

“No, I left him with mother. He died not long ago. Mother buried him in the garden.”

“You visited grandmother?” he asked. He only had her letters, hidden in a box beneath his bed with his dragon egg. Lord Connington gave it to him after he had knighted him. _Your father tasked me to give it to you_. ”Is she well?”

“She has to keep to bed,” she told him and leaned closer to pick a flower from his hands. She twirled the flower between her fingers, before placing it in his hair.

“Your hair is so smooth. I always wanted to have hair like you when we were children.”

Jon chuckled and brushed his hand over hers. He expected her to pull away, but no such thing happened. The contrary happened. Ever gently, she brushed her hand over his cheek.

Her touch brought back the warm feeling pooling in his stomach.

“Daenerys…,” he whispered and swallowed hard, large violet eyes fixed at him.

“Dany,” she corrected him. ”Please…even Viserys insisted on calling me Daenerys when I visited him in Sunspear. It was bloody annoying.”

He bit back a smile. Hearing her curse brought back memories of the old Daenerys.

“Don’t use such crude words,” he chided her and squeezed her hand, still resting on his cheek.

She didn’t avoid his gaze, her violet eyes fixed at him as she pursed her lips.

It was a wicked thing to do. Something in his groin stirred at the sight of her action and he felt the uncontrollable urge to kiss her.

Yet he stopped himself in the last moment and remained utterly still, awaiting her next movement.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she chided him, but leaned only closer, her warm breath brushing over his lips. ”It is not proper.”

“Since when did you ever care what is proper,” he whispered, the touch of his lips on hers more than pleasant, sending a jolt through his body. She pulled on his hair as she deepened the kiss, her tongue moving against his own.

She gave a small gasp when he tasted her lips, her grip growing tighter on his shoulders. He trembled and pressed her closer to his chest. She trembled as well and his cock twitched uncomfortably. In the matter of a heartbeat he pulled away, gasping for air.

“Jon…,” she whispered, her lips swollen and her eyes blown. ”We shouldn’t do that again.”

It hurt, but she was right. It was a mistake. _I need to control myself better._

Yet he couldn’t help but lean over to touch her hand.

“I agree. We shouldn’t do that again.” 

…

 _Let’s not do that again_ , she had told him not long ago, but it turned out to be nothing more than a delusion. It happened again and again, though nothing more than that.

Not that she didn’t want to, but there were only so many excuses she could find to slip away from her ladies.

At midday she met him the stables, her trousers in place beneath her dress. Quickly, she pulled off her dress and re-fastened her cloak, before they rode out to the Kingswood. It was a dreary day and it rained in the morning. The grass was still wet and the heavy scent of rain lay in the air.

Daenerys didn’t care if the cold air touched her skin. She only cared for his kisses on her neck, her shoulder and between her breasts. She sucked them gently, her cloak and his body her only protection against the cold. It made her feel only hotter and increased her desire for him.

“Jon,” she gasped and pulled on his hair. He didn’t answer and pulled her face to his to kiss her deeply. She loved that the most. The brush of his tongue against hers, the touch of his rough hands against her cheeks. It set her insides aflame.

She wanted more, so much more.

“Jon,” she murmured after she had pulled back a little. He stopped, his dark eyes staring down at her like two hot coals. ”Let me touch you.”

He stopped abruptly and brushed her hand away when she tried to touch his trousers. His breathing was laboured and his cheeks flushed. Yet it helped to lighten his long solemn face.

“No,” he whispered against her cheek, but didn’t stop her either. She touched him, gently as if to stir a fire to life. He gasped against her cheek as she brushed her fingers over his cock, his fingers buried in her shoulder. ”It’s not proper.”

“Who cares,” she whispered. _Not even Aegon knows what it’s proper_ , she thought and kept that to herself. “I want only you…neither Aegon nor any other Lording.”

Then she reached down to pull off her boots and trousers. Freed from her lower clothing her tunic fell to her knees. It was actually a rough-spun sleeping gown.

“But you need to be a maid,” he stuttered. She slapped his shoulder and gave him a sharp look. ”Rhaenys was no maid either when she wed Willas Tyrell. Riding can be the cause of that or something else…I will tell Pycelle to fuck himself if he ever tries to get a look down there...” she trailed off.

His laugh was hoarse and he leaned down to kiss her again. First her cheek, then her neck, before moving lower to kiss her breasts through the rough fabric.

Then, ever gently he brushed up her tunic and spread her legs. Her heart was thrumming wildly in her chest and the world disappeared.

Her mind was hazy, like a thick fog, before the soft touch of his tongue between her legs called her back to the present. She couldn’t help but to whimper and pulled on his hair, as she lost herself to his touch.

He brushed his hand over his mouth as he lifted his head to regard her in the pale light.

She smiled and snaked her hands back to his trouser, starting to unfurl the laces.

“Stop staring at me like that,” she gasped, no ordered him. ”Please.”

He grimaced and wanted to pull away, his face filled with pain and uncertainty.

She grabbed his face, beckoning to stay with her.

“I love you,” she whispered. ”Not Aegon. You.”

“He is still my brother,” Jon whispered. ”But I love you too. Don’t doubt that.”

“But he doesn’t love me,” she whispered breathlessly. ”He has a girl to call his own. He is just doing what everyone else he is telling him to do.”

He stared at her, his purple eyes wide, wet with unshed tears.

“You truly love me?” he inquired again, as if he didn’t quite believe her.

She nodded her head and leaned up to kiss him again. He shuddered, but didn’t back. He continued to kiss her fiercely, one hand snaking through her curls and the other over her breast.

She had enough of this and started to fumble for the lacing of his trousers, but failed to accomplish what she set out to do. Her hands proved too clumsy.

He helped her then, his head now resting against her cheek, as he freed him. He kissed her cheeks as he drove inside her. It hurt, but it lasted not more than a heartbeat. She must have gasped, for Jon stopped abruptly.

“Don’t fret,” she told him and kissed his cheek. ”It feels good. Don’t stop.”

He groaned as he as slid out to bury himself deeper, his hot breath brushing against her cheek. He was clumsy, his hands fisting the grass next to her as he moved inside her. Slowly, the pain eased, his gasps filling her ears. There was no proper rhythm to their coupling, but she didn’t care. She closed her eyes, her fingernails buried in his back as he sped up his movements. Suddenly, he gasped and stopped, something warm trickling down her legs as he lifted himself from her, probably trying to prevent himself from crushing her.

He shuddered once more, before he freed himself from her embrace and rolled to the side, his breathing quick and fast like the horses she liked to ride.

In that moment of peace, as she twirled his hair between her fingers, she knew what could never be Aegon’s Queen.

__It would be a sin_ , she thought and leaned closer to kiss his cheek. _And it would make all of us unhappy.__

“Let us go away,” she whispered into his ear. ”Far away.”

“What about your mother?” he asked. ”Won’t she be disappointed?”

She couldn’t help but to shake her head.

“My mother’s wishes don’t matter. I am my own person. I have the right to decide my own fate as do you. You are not Aemon the Dragonknight and I won’t be Queen Naerys. Our life won’t be like in the songs, but in the end we will be happier for it.”

He smiled warmly and kissed her brow. Then he pulled her back into his warm embrace.

“We will do as you say, love.”

Daenerys heard tightened at his admission and she snuggled closer, to warm herself.

She had always thought that Dragonstone was her home, but that was another lie. No, her home was always here. It was Jon all along.

…

Aegon had listened in silence as Lord Mace Tyrell continued to go on and on about his betrothed’s disappearance. He had already heard it a thousand times. His Aunt disappeared with his brother and boarded a ship to the Free Cities.

His council was aghast about his brother’s actions, but Aegon wasn’t surprised. They had thought he would be their puppet, playing to their tune like a dancer to a song. Well, they were wrong.

 _Act like a King_ , Daenerys had told him and Aegon had every intention to follow her advice. It had taken him ten and six years, but it was time to cast away the strings of his advisors.

“My Lords,” he called out to the group of men, their heated discussion painful to his ears. Only his Lady Mother was silent, her face serious as ever. She was not part of the Ruling Council, but he wanted her to be here.

”I think it is best if we finally lay this matter to rest,” he said at last and purposely looked at Lord Mace Tyrell. ”I have no intention to pursue my brother and aunt.”

“But your Grace!” Mace Tyrell protested vehemently, his round cheeks flushed. ”What if the boy comes back to take your crown?”

Aegon snorted in disbelief. He had observed his brother closely over the years, but what he heard and saw, didn’t show the tender stirrings of a future Daemon Blackfyre. No, they were much more similar than Aegon believed.

Both of them had live a lonely life, burdened down by their past. Jon committed no crime when he ran off with his aunt, he only made the first step to cut off the burdens of his past.

Aegon intended to do the same and gave Lord Tyrell a displeased look.

“Are you telling me that I am no the rightful King, my Lord?” he asked coldly. Then he shifted is attention to his other advisors. There was the Old Grand Maester Pycelle, Lord Tywin Lannister, Prince Lewyn Martell, Lord Valeryon and his Hand Lord Jon Connington. ”Are you trying to imply that I have to fear for my crown?”

“That’s not what we are trying to say…,” Lord Tyrell stuttered. ”But the boy could become a danger. He defied the rules before…,” he trailed off, fishing for the right words.

 _Time to begin_ , he thought and glimpsed at Lord Tywin Lannister. _Aegon had to pay hefty price to win him over_ , but it would be worth it in the end or so he hoped. _It shall be the first step to make peace with the rebel kingdoms._

“You are speaking about my brother, my blood, a Prince of House Targaryen, my Lord,” Aegon reminded him sharply. ”Or were you also not aware of my father’s last will?”

His mother gave a soft gasp as she turned to Lord Connington, who had listened to their exchange in silence.

All the Lords in the room grew pale, safe for Lord Tywin, Lord Valeryon and of course Lord Connington. He had informed them beforehand of his plans.

“Did you tell him, my Lord?” she demanded to know from his Hand.

“He did only his duty,” Aegon informed his mother and leaned over to squeeze her hand. ”And I have every intention of recognizing my father’s will. Henceforward, my brother shall be known by the name Targaryen, a Prince of the realm. You had no right forgo my father’s will, but I am shall not hold it against you, for I know you were only trying to act in my best interest, Lady Mother.”

“I thank you for all you did for me, but I am ten and six, a man grown. By my right as King of the Seven Kingdoms, I hereby dissolve the Ruling Council. In good time, I will inform you about my appointments for the Small Council,” he explained and shifted his head back to his Hand.

“I hope you will still serve as my Hand for many years to come, my Lord?” he asked the man who had been more of a father to him than the man who had fathered him.

Tears glistened in his blue eyes and a smile curled on his lips.

“Of course, your Grace. It would be my greatest pleasure to serve you.”

…

Daenerys watched contentedly as the sunlight fell through the painted glass windows. Her son Valarr sucked greedily on her breasts, his face scrunched up in concentration. He was a wee thing, silver haired and grey-eyed, but he never failed to smile at her after she had fed him.

He curled against her chest, as she placed him back into the small crib Jon had made for him.

He gurgled happily when she brushed her hand over his curly hair and placed a kiss on his cheek.

“Sleep now,” she told him and smiled again when she saw the dragon egg placed next to head. ”You must be tired.”

Then she went back to her chair and wrapped her shawl back over her shoulders, before stepping out into the gardens.

Their house was small, but it was better that way. The painted red door made her feel as if she was back at Dragonstone, though she sometimes missed the storms.

She found Jon seated at the small garden wall, overseeing the houses below, a letter in his hands.

“From Samwell Tarly?” she asked, always delighted when Jon’s friend wrote to them.

“Aye,” Jon confirmed, an amused smile playing on his lips. ”You won’t believe what Aegon did.”

She gave him a playful slap on the shoulder. She hated it when he was he was playing guessing games with her.

“What did he do?”

“He legitimized me,” Jon explained. ”And he got married to Myrcella Lannister.”

…


End file.
